


Stories for the Choir - A Man Has A Thirst

by Kittys_World



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Multi, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 15:21:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8377171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittys_World/pseuds/Kittys_World
Summary: My first attempt at story-telling. Thought I would start out with a little one-shot. A beautiful gift is given to the goddess.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My very first fanfic story! It's a one-shot. Caution: may have typos and laughable ridiculousness. Thank you aryaxjaqen for the title! ;)

A Man Has a Thirst   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The girl felt herself being lifted from her bed, a familiar smell in the darkness.

"Jaqen?"

He pressed her face to his chest as he carried her through the grand halls towards the glass room. She held onto him, gripping his robe, there was nowhere she felt more safe. Moonlight through the blood-red cut glass mosaics intercepted the darkness of the looming great walls. In the center of the ancient room stood a marble table.

He lay Arya carefully, delicately, upon the cold hard surface. From out of the shadows, shrouded figures emerged and surrounded her. There must have been five of them...cloaked in black, their faces unseen, their arms and hands gloved in leather and velvet, their danger tangible. Her heartbeat quickened, her breaths coming closer in time. She could only mark Jaqen as the one who set her upon this strange altar, and she tracked his movements. 

Exposed and vulnerable, she lay quiet and still in nothing but a translucent chemise and flushed cheeks. Jaqen presented a dagger before her and with artful skill cut away the cloth, leaving her bereft of any illusion of modesty she had clung to. He leaned down to her and whispered into her ear, 

"A man has made his vow to Arya Stark, but no man will ever be good enough, strong enough, or wise enough for my lovely girl, and for that the Goddess desires her so. The Goddess wishes to take her, and only after may the lovely girl allow herself to be touched by whom she wishes." 

She shivered against the cold marble. An uninvited breeze snaked through the hall, invading her body, greedily biting at her and stealing away her warmth. Her mind was clouded with sensation, emotion and confusion. She felt she was a centerpiece for a feast by this strange audience. Jaqen's words slowly penetrated her mind. Moments ago she was sleeping in her bed, seemingly invisible to the world. Now she lay, the object of desire and worship of the men around her, a beacon for the goddess, and at once she felt the most vulnerable and powerful she ever had in her life.

Jaqen took her hand as he sat on a stone beside the altar, his head just above hers. Two tall figures, hidden behind their black cloth, brought forward a large sculpture, silver and jeweled, glistening against the candlelight. She could not make out what it was. Only when they approached her legs did she realize the purpose of such and oddly shaped, but beautiful object. Long, smooth, colder than the marble and the sea breeze through the windows, the silver phallus was set between her legs. 

Jaqen squeezed her hand and kissed her. He closed his eyes and nodded to her, confirming what she already knew she must allow them to do. She was not certain if she truly had a choice. If she were to fight, to rebel, would it matter? Would they stop? She felt the female energy of the goddess flow through her, warming her curves, her breasts, her hips, her womb, seductively insisting she yield.

She was noticeably shaking now, but she gathered her courage and began to raise her legs slowly. Two of the dark figures, one at each of her hips, supported her delicate long legs and guided her to pull them apart, spreading and exposing her in a way she never had been.

Her shaking intensified as another cloaked shadow moved the phallus closer to her folds. The last of the mysterious figures gracefully moved towards Jaqen, observing the worry on his brothers face. He touched Arya's nipple and she gasped. "It will only help her" he offered to Jaqen, who breathed hard in reluctant agreement. 

She was not ready, it was not suppose to be like this, and a tear fell down her face at the same time she felt the head push at her opening. 

Jaqen was halfway on the marble with her, leaning over her, supporting himself with his hands on each side of her head, she could see only him and he kissed her. She relaxed for just a moment and the next time she took a breath, they pushed the silver into her without mercy. She screamed and grabbed Jaqen for comfort, desperately clutching to him.

He held her tight, kissing her face, wiping and licking away her tears as the silver was retracted slowly only to be forced into her a second time. It was far too large for her little body. Made for a tall, voluptuous gleaming goddess-an image that no one believed would ever come. And when she did, she was not as expected; powerful, but small, half-woman, half-child. 

The silver sparkled under a single ray of moonlight as it was removed and then advanced deep into her one last time. She struggled, prevented from moving away from the hard metal, threatening to tear her body far within, she openly sobbed and clutched Jaqen, her lifeline. 

Finally the intrusion was over and upon removal, they drew the now-warm silver phallus, bearing her own blood, across her body-around her beautifully dainty breasts...down her stomach...her pink labia...her snowy thighs...her slender neck and even across her seductive cherry lips. Blood painted her entire body, a body used to clean the precious sculpture, a body used to satisfy the Goddess, and a body that would now be used to strengthen and satisfy the men, her brothers of the house.

Hands were all over her and Jaqen rose from her and stepped away. He pulled his hood over his face and joined his brothers as Arya reached out for him. His movement was swift and she lost track of him. Five, there were still five of them and not one had left or entered. He was one of them, but which one? She needed to know, she needed him, but she was enveloped by their gloved hands all over her body. They caressed her everywhere at once, and she melted like heated gold against their touch. They lowered their heads to her, licking away her blood, worshipping her, and she felt she was a gem, a gift given from the goddess to the faithful followers. She was both an object of desire and a being of power, she was at once nothing and everything.

A strong hand gripped her thigh uncomfortably and forced it up while he aggressively licked her blood from thigh to lips...Another hand, this one massaging and careful, slipped under her to cup her buttocks, as he licked the blood in teasing swirling movements with his tongue between her entrance and her ass...and then...delicate fingers traced her breasts like lace as she felt a tongue lick down her chest and nipples. cleaning her, a romantic and a flirt this ones touch...while yet another mouth methodically covered her neck, sucking and massaging her down her arm and to the tips of her fingers...And suddenly a tongue directly into her, the prime source of her sweet, feminine blood, he pushed her legs apart and it thrilled her. He greedily took the blood, for now it belonged to him. She belonged to him. The others had stepped back, but she allowed him to continue. She was sore and in shock and delirious, but she wanted nothing but to give to this man. Cut her open and let her bleed until death comes if that is what will please this insatiable shadow. 

He placed his fingers inside her. And despite the remaining pain from being stretched too far, she screamed, this time not from fear, but from absolute release. She was his, whoever he was. And he moved forward to rest his head on her chest, against her breasts.

Out of respect each of the other brothers bowed and left. After a long time, he raised his face to her and removed his hood.

"Jaqen!" she sighed, exhausted, and reached up for him like a child. He collected her into his arms and she collapsed against him, and he held her there, his very own precious gift, his prize.

**Author's Note:**

> This crazy little story came about because I was talking to PatriaRoux about her work, Songs of the Faceless, and she jokingly said, "Everyone is after Arya" so I was like "EVERYONE"? Hmmm...what are some ways that could happen.
> 
> Yeah, I know, ridiculous right? Couldn't help myself. 
> 
> Anyway, PatriaRoux told me I should publish it, and aryaxjaqen came up with the awesome title.  
> XOXO
> 
> K


End file.
